


Knocking His Socks Off

by BrandonStrayne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Burns, Community: Pen15isMightier, Engagement, Established Relationship, Hot Tub, Hotels, Humor, Injury, M/M, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Available, Romance, Scotland, Stargazing, Vacation, lame jokes, sauna sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-01 04:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/pseuds/BrandonStrayne
Summary: Draco anxiously awaits for Harry to work up that famous Gryffindor courage and pop the question. And what better place to do it than at a romantic tower nestled in the hills of the Scottish highlands, overlooking a beautiful Loch?





	Knocking His Socks Off

**Author's Note:**

> This story was both written and recorded especially for the Pen15 is Mightier 'Aural Delights' Podfic Challenge.
> 
> I would like to give my sincere thanks to my betas [Drarryismymuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchersn/pseuds/Drarryismymuse), [OllieMaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieMaye/pseuds/OllieMaye), and [Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum) for the quick turnaround and supportive words! Y'all are amazing!

He was going to kill that arsehole.

Draco eyed the bundled up sock that was discarded on the floor of their bedroom with the fury of a thousand burning suns. If only his stare actually had that power, then he could just obliviate the prat’s discarded socks in a dramatic burst of fire whenever he left them strewn across their bedroom floor instead of putting them in the hamper like any minimally functioning adult human being.

He was absolutely NOT going to pick up that bloody sock. Not this time.

Draco shoved the shirt he was currently holding into his suitcase with perhaps a little more vigour than was strictly required. “Were you raised in a barn, Potter? Is it really so hard to put your dirty socks in the hamper?”

Harry looked up at him from the other side of the bed, where he was busy packing his own suitcase, with a shit-eating grin. “A barn would probably have been an upgrade. Roomier, for sure, but definitely more drafty.”

Draco rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his packing. He still couldn’t understand how Harry could be so able to joke about his childhood like that. His powers of compartmentalisation were unsurpassed.

“Do you mind handing it to me?” Harry asked.

Draco ignored him, running through his mental checklist of all the things he needed to pack for their weekend away. Satisfied that he wasn’t forgetting anything, he flipped the top of the suitcase over and zipped it closed with a decisive flick of his wand.

“If you think that I am starting a romantic weekend getaway by picking up your smelly socks, you are sorely mistaken, Potter.”

“Come on, D. It’s all the way over there on your side of the bed,” Harry whinged.

Draco grabbed the handle of his suitcase and pulled it off of the bed. “Might I remind you that you are a wizard? Accio it yourself, you lazy sod. You had better step up your game this weekend, mister. You promised me a weekend full of romance, and you had better deliver on your promise.” Draco swivelled around and strode towards the door to their bedroom. “I’ll be waiting in the sitting room when you are ready. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

An exasperated sigh followed him out of the bedroom as he made his way down the hallway and down the stairs, towards their sitting room.

Draco sighed to himself. He really needed to get a grip. It’s just that for the last two months, ever since Pansy spotted Harry ring shopping with Hermione in Muggle London and immediately reported the exciting discovery to Draco, Draco had been on tenterhooks, waiting for Harry to finally work up the nerve to pop the question. All the nervous anticipation had left Draco, understandably, a bit prickly.

When Harry had proposed this impromptu mini-break to Scotland, Draco had known that this would be the weekend. They were going to be staying in a gorgeous and secluded outbuilding on the grounds of Taymouth Castle, the White Tower. There would be nothing but the two of them, a rooftop hot tub, and an expansive view of Loch Tay and its surrounds for two days.

Draco thought he was going to go mad with excitement and a part of him just wished that Harry would get it over with already so that he wouldn’t have to be on edge anymore. A snow-covered castle tower nestled beside a Loch was extremely romantic, but Draco thought he may have been just as thrilled if Harry had dropped down on one knee upstairs in their bedroom, surrounded by his dirty laundry scattered around the room and the dust bunnies under their bed, and asked him to marry him right then and there.

Draco took a deep breath and centred himself. He was getting engaged to the man that he loved more than anyone else in the world this weekend. It was going to be the happiest moment of his life...he just had to not snap and kill the prat before that happened.

Just then, as if summoned, he heard Harry’s heavy footsteps bang their way down the stairs. How could one man make the sound equivalent of a herd of angry elephants? Draco felt that nervous irritation creep up on him once more until Harry rounded the door frame and came into the room, a wide grin spreading across his face, lighting it up, when his eyes met Draco’s. The lug still looked at him as if Draco was the sole light in a world of darkness, and Draco’s irritation dissolved away once more. Merlin help him, he loved that man.

“Took you long enough,” Draco spit out, attempting to school his features into a disapproving glare.

Based on the way Harry’s grin somehow got even wider and the low laugh that slipped out, Draco didn’t think he had been entirely successful. Harry strode across the room and set his suitcase down beside Draco’s before wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling their bodies together.

“Patience is a virtue, D,” Harry uttered as he trailed kisses up Draco’s neck and over his jaw.

“Fortunately for you, so is forgiveness,” Draco retorted, tipping his head back and giving Harry better access to his neck.

“I am a very fortunate man,” Harry breathed out, his hot breath brushing across the thin skin of Draco’s neck. Draco let his hands slide up Harry’s arms and over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. Draco snaked one hand up through the thick mass of Harry’s hair and grabbed a fistful, pulling Harry’s head back and taking his mouth in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Draco held Harry’s head immobile as he plundered his mouth for long minutes, sweeping their tongues together in an intimate dance that they’d perfected over the past three years together.

Draco pried his eyes open and drank in the sight of Harry up close for a few moments, lost in the pleasure of their kiss, before he gradually pulled away, ending it. Draco chuckled at the purr of satisfaction that Harry let out before his eyes fluttered open and they stared at each other from inches apart.

Draco brought his other hand around and swept Harry’s hair back from his forehead, exposing the telltale scar. He traced the zig-zag of the scar with one finger, then continued running the fingertip down between Harry’s eyebrows and along the ridge of his nose, down around the tip and onto Harry’s lips, which were always impossibly soft from the lip balm that he kept on him at all times. Harry’s lips puckered and he placed a kiss on the pad of Draco’s finger. Draco smiled fondly at Harry and retracted his finger, bringing it to his own lips and placing the imparted kiss there.

“I love you, you know,” Harry sighed.

“I know,” Draco replied, letting Harry sweat it out for a few seconds before tacking on, “I love you too.” Harry moved to pull them together again, but Draco placed his hands on Harry’s chest and leaned back, peeling them apart. “We can make out in our own sitting room any day. Let’s get going and make out in the fancy hotel that you’re paying a small fortune for.”

Laughing, Harry picked up their two suitcases. Draco looped his arm through Harry’s and they Apparated away.

 

***

 

They cracked into existence in a small copse of trees, sinking into the shin-height drifts of snow.

“It’s this way. Come on, D.”

Harry hoisted their bags up so that they wouldn’t drag in the snow and set out towards the clearing. Draco followed behind him, utilising Harry’s deep prints in the snow to stay as dry as possible. After a few minutes, they emerged out onto a gravel road that had been plowed and they turned right and headed up the gravel drive towards a small building that was the same white colour as the snow. A 3-story tall circular tower arose from the rest of the building, which was a unique blend of angles and curves. On the left side there appeared to be a fenced-off outdoor dining terrace. The place wasn’t very large, nothing like the massive Manor that he had grown up with, but the place had a charm to it that Draco liked. He could imagine this as the residence of a medieval knight-in-shining-armour.

“So, does it meet your approval?” Harry asked, one eyebrow arched as he studied Draco’s reaction to their retreat.

“Far too early for me to commit to that. I haven’t even seen the inside yet,” he replied.

“Then I guess we had better get inside, hadn’t we?” Harry said, unperturbed by Draco’s aloofness. Harry continued up the short walkway and, setting the suitcases down briefly, reached under the doormat and retrieved a small brass key. Unlocking the door, he gestured for Draco to enter and then followed behind him with their suitcases.

“The kitchen and sitting room are through here, and there is a small sauna just down here,” Harry gestured to a small area just off of the kitchen where several stairs led down into a little utility area. “How about you take our luggage upstairs to the bedroom while I go out and get some firewood and get the fireplace going in the sitting room?”

Harry pulled him in and gave him a quick kiss when he nodded and then slipped back out of the door, closing it softly behind him. Pulling out his wand, Draco levitated the suitcases in front of him and then started up the stairs, the suitcases bobbing in the air as he ascended. Peeking his head into each room, Draco quickly discovered that the first floor contained a small library, a second bedroom with an elaborately carved Baroque style headboard, and a second staircase. He proceeded up the staircase to the second floor where he found the master bedroom: a circular room with an en-suite bathroom, window seats that overlooked rolling snow-covered hills, and in the centre, a double bed with a gold-framed padded headboard and made up with quilted, lavender satin bedding. A rich, wine-coloured canopy hung suspended from near the ceiling and fell behind the headboard, lending the bed a look of regality.

Draco’s approval had definitely been earned.

He took a moment to walk around the room and inspect the panoramic view of the landscape from the multiple windows. He wasn’t sure how Harry had managed to find this place, but he really outdid himself. Draco wanted to commit every detail to his memory so that he could do it justice whenever he told the story of their engagement in the future. He was jostled from his daydreaming when he heard the door creak open downstairs and Harry’s shuffling around as he brought the logs of wood in. Draco turned his attention back to their suitcases and set about unpacking their things into the wooden dresser and setting out their toiletries in the bathroom. Once he had everything unpacked, he shrunk down their suitcases and stored them in the dresser, out of the way, and then headed back down to the ground floor to see how Harry was coming along with the fire.

He walked into the sitting room to find Harry reclining against a corner on one of the supple, brown leather sofas, a cheery fire roaring in the fireplace.

“We’ll have this place toasty warm in no time,” Harry assured him.

Draco walked over and settled himself on the sofa between Harry’s legs, casting his legs up onto the sofa and using Harry’s torso as a pillow. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me warm until then.”

Harry’s arms came around him and one hand petted small circles over Draco’s chest while the other stroked his fingers over Draco’s forehead and into his hair. Draco’s eyes drifted closed with the soothing motion, one that had been used by his mother since he was a small boy whenever he had trouble getting to sleep.

They sat there in silence, listening only to the crackle of the fire and each other’s steady breaths, until Harry’s soft voice broke the peaceful silence. “I made reservations for us to have dinner in Kenmore, at a restaurant that’s right on the Loch. How does that sound?”

“Mmmm,” Draco hummed, “It sounds great, except for the requirement that I will have to move.” Just then, Harry’s stomach let out a protracted rumbling growl and Draco’s eyes shot open as he laughed. Draco shifted to his side so that he could look up at Harry. “I guess now’s as good a time as any, but I reserve the right to use you as a pillow again later.”

Harry chuckled and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Draco’s upturned lips. “Deal. Now let’s go have a nice, romantic dinner.”

A romantic, candlelit dinner sounded like a perfect moment to propose. Draco beamed back at him. “Let’s go get ready. We will want to look our best.” Draco pushed himself up and stood up before pulling Harry up after him. “I get the first shower.”

“Or we could do the environmentally responsible thing and shower together,” Harry proposed suggestively.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Nice try, but shower sex is just a great way to do two things poorly.”

 

***

 

Draco took a small sip of his wine as he watched Harry take the final bite of his steak. One of the first moments that Draco had known that his feelings for Harry had definitely evolved into love was when they had been out for dinner at a fancy Muggle restaurant in London two years ago. Draco had watched as Harry devoured his dinner with the feverish intensity of a ravenous hyena and, rather than feeling revolted as he knew he would have normally, he had been filled with a glow of fondness for the man. Only love could turn such a revolting sight into a charming quirk. Of course, Draco had held the knowledge of his love close to his chest for eight months more after that before informing Harry of his feelings for him. He was still a Slytherin, after all, and that knowledge was too powerful to just hand away.

Harry had finished chewing his hunk of steak while Draco had been ruminating and was now settling back in his chair, hand rubbing over his distended belly as he groaned about how good the meal had been. Draco struggled to not find it charming and failed miserably.

“I guess I’ll just have dessert on my own, shall I?” he asked, fighting down a knowing smirk that wanted to break free.

“You know me. I always have room for dessert!” Harry replied, taking a deep breath and sitting up straight once again. He signalled the waiter, who nodded and then headed to the kitchen. “I took the liberty of ordering your favourite, crème brûlée, in advance. They normally don’t do any special flavours, but I asked if they would be willing to do up a couple of vanilla bean ones for us for a special occasion and they agreed.”

Draco felt his stomach churn, the butternut squash ravioli that he had eaten for dinner suddenly leaden in his stomach. This was obviously it. They were nestled in the corner of the restaurant, seated by a window that overlooked the Loch, which was like a black mirror reflecting the sparkling stars overhead. The restaurant was quite busy, the various tables of diners communing together in low voices gave the room a low-level buzz of activity but not so distracting as to draw attention from one’s own company. On the far wall, a tall fireplace flickered with life, projecting warmth and ambience into the room.

Harry reached across the table and took Draco’s hands into his own, causing Draco’s heart to kick up speed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Draco.”

“It’s not Valentine’s Day yet. That’s not until tomorrow,” Draco replied, his mouth suddenly parched with the intensity of his nerves.

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s correction. “I love you, even when you are being an insufferable git.”

“Your romance skills could use some work. You’re not going to woo anyone by calling them an insufferable git, you know.”

Harry laughed. “I wooed you, didn’t I?” The waiter appeared at their tableside and they leaned back, allowing him room to place two ramekins full of the dessert in front of them. Harry thanked the waiter and he slid away, leaving them alone once again. “I don’t have any intention of needing to woo anyone else.”

Draco drank in the sight of Harry, committing this moment to memory. In just a moment he would dig into his favourite dessert and find the engagement ring that he knew would be hidden inside. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry’s face lit up at Draco’s words, all the more special because he still didn’t use them very often. Harry knew that he loved him, but Draco had been raised in a household where it was considered gauche to gallivant around proclaiming your emotions, and old habits are hard to break. Like leaving your dirty socks on the floor instead of placing them in the hamper that was only a few feet away. Neither of them would ever be perfect, but love is about choosing to be with someone, flaws and all.

Draco broke their gaze and looked down at his dessert, taking a deep, steadying breath before picking up his spoon and taking a spoonful from the very centre of the dessert. He returned his eyes to Harry’s as he placed the bite of dessert containing his future into his mouth, wanting to see the look on Harry’s face as Draco discovered the ring...only...there was no ring. Draco’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as he prodded the food with his tongue, finally convinced that there was no jewellery in it.

Confused, he looked back down at his ramekin and scraped his spoon through the entire dessert, seeking out the ring that he knew must be in there. Eventually, he had to concede that there was nothing there and he looked up to Harry, who was watching him with an amused expression on his face.

“Everything okay with your crème brûlée?” he asked.

“It’s...fine,” Draco replied. Harry shrugged and then turned his attention to his own dessert, Draco watching with interest as Harry took the first bite. He had had a brief hope that their desserts had simply been mixed up by the waiter, but surely Harry would have offered to switch them when he saw Draco digging through his and not finding the ring.

Draco watched, stunned, as Harry took a few more bites, trying to get over the shock that Harry evidently wasn’t going to propose over dinner. He had been so _sure_ . Harry set his spoon down once he noticed that Draco was not eating and asked, “Are you sure it’s okay? We can order you something else if you don’t like it.”

Draco shook himself and took another bite of his dessert before replying, “No, no. It’s delicious. Thank you for going out of your way to have them make my favourite.”

Harry gave him a fond smile. “Anything to make you happy, D.”

They finished the rest of their dessert in silence, and by the end of it, Draco had managed to rally his spirits. They still had two more days here; there was still plenty of time for Harry to work up the old Gryffindor courage.

 

***

 

Draco drifted awake with the smell of Harry’s coconut shampoo invading his senses. His arm was wrapped around Harry’s side and was tucked up against his chest, where Harry held it clamped under his hands. As usual, Harry’s body gave off waves of heat, as if he was a furnace, and Draco snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth of Harry’s back against his chest.

He settled closer, taking a deep breath of the tropical smell, and prepared to doze back off to sleep, the sun just barely peeking over the tops of the mountains in the distance through the window. But it seemed Harry had other ideas; a low moan came from the man nestled in front of him, followed by a tentative twerk of his hips, Harry’s arse rubbing against Draco’s morning erection.

Draco yanked one eye open, waiting to see whether Harry was awake or whether he was just having a very good dream. It was only a second later when a second probing thrust of the arse stroked his erection and a small chuckle came from the man in his arms. “The scenery here is beautiful, but this is still my favourite wood,” his words accompanied by another arse thrust.

Draco groaned, both at the sinfully good feeling and the horrible joke. “How long have you been waiting to use that one?” he asked, dipping his head to suck a faint mark on Harry’s neck. He loved seeing his marks dappled across Harry’s skin.

Harry laughed and tilted his head back into Draco’s shoulder, giving Draco more access to his neck. “Pretty much since we got here. I was just waiting for the perfect moment to use it.”

“Your sense of humour seems to have stunted sometime in fourth year,” Draco snorted. Then, grinning, he added, “Looks like the sun isn’t the only thing rising this morning.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter and turned slightly, wrapping his arm around the back of Draco’s head and pulling him down into a kiss. After a long minute, they gradually pulled apart and Draco placed a final, chaste kiss on Harry’s lips before he pulled back enough to see his face. “Your breath smells like a dead badger.”

Harry laughed again and grinned at him. “Now who needs to up their romance game?”

Draco pulled away to reach behind him and grab his wand off his nightstand. He cast a couple of breath freshening charms before redirecting his wand and casting their preferred preparatory and lubrication charms. He tossed his wand over to Harry’s nightstand before cupping Harry’s face in his hands and taking his mouth in another lingering kiss. “Still you,” he finally answered Harry’s posed question, earning himself another laugh from his lover.

They didn’t rush, taking their time to explore each other’s mouths and rubbing against one another. Draco trailed his hand down Harry’s chest, scraping his nails through the coarse hair there and scratching lightly at his nipples. Harry hissed into his mouth and he took the opportunity to pinch one, enjoying the way Harry’s body arched back against him at the lick of pleasure-pain. Harry had always liked nipple play, and Draco had enjoyed pushing him to the brink of orgasm and then denying him that final push over the ledge many a time, but today he didn't have the patience to deny himself the pleasure of Harry’s greedy hole for that long.

Draco reached down and pulled on Harry’s leg, directing it up and out so that he was spread out, not quite flat on his stomach. Reaching between them, Draco took hold of the base of his cock and slid its head up and down over Harry’s cleft. He enjoyed the feeling of his plump cheeks engulfing the head of his cock, and Harry’s groans of excitement when he pressed it firmly against the patch of skin behind his balls.

“Merlin, you’re killing me!” Harry’s frustrated words were muffled by the pillow as he buried his head in it, his body taut with anticipation. Draco considered tormenting him a bit longer, making him beg to be fucked, but Draco’s own frustration was a matching pair to Harry’s and he found he couldn’t deny himself the hot pleasure anymore. Draco placed a soft kiss at the base of Harry’s neck and trailed them up his spine to the hairline of his messy mop as he finally guided his cock up through Harry’s crevice to the furled muscle of his hole.

There was a protracted moment of anticipation, both of them holding their breath as Draco leaned forward, letting his cock press against the tight barrier until it finally collapsed, and Draco slid smoothly into Harry, the lubrification charm making Harry’s channel slick and welcoming. Draco pushed through, plundering Harry’s arse, not satisfied until he was buried as deep as he could get, Harry’s round arse cheeks pushed up against his groin.

Draco groaned at the heavenly feeling of Harry wrapped around him. Overwhelmed with sensations as he ground his hips in small circles, still buried deep in the grasping heat, Draco bared his teeth and bit down slowly on the meat of Harry’s shoulder. The bed shifted as Harry’s hand shot down, slipping under his outstretched leg to take his own cock in his hand and stroke it.

“Make love to me, D,” Harry pleaded, his arm contracting and relaxing as he jerked himself off, his sphincter squeezing and releasing around the base of Draco’s cock with the movement. Dirty talk was hardly a rarity between them in the bedroom, but there was something about Harry’s phrasing that tore through Draco and made him feel exposed and vulnerable and desperate. Not just a demand to be fucked, but a demand to be loved.

Draco licked over the indents of his teeth in Harry’s skin, leaving a kiss on each before pulling back and planting his hand on Harry’s hip, holding him steady. He leaned up on his other forearm and braced his leg between Harry’s spread ones, giving him the leverage he needed to start thrusting. He pulled back slowly, enjoying the tight suction of Harry’s arse grasping at him, desperate to keep him inside. Just before he slipped out, he reversed course and began his reclamation of Harry’s channel.

His thrusts sped up incrementally as he fucked into Harry, fighting back the orgasm that had been tingling at the base of his spine since that first plundering thrust. He was determined that he would hold himself in check until he ensured that Harry had achieved his own climax, but he knew he would not be far behind. Harry was taking short, shallow, panting breaths as Draco thrust into him. Draco yanked Harry’s leg up higher, changing the angle of his penetration and making sure his cock pressed more firmly against Harry’s prostate on each plunge and Harry moaned, his hand speeding up to chase his orgasm.

Draco lowered his head and whispered into Harry’s ear, “Come for me, love.” His words were the final impetus and pushed Harry over the top, his come erupting out of his cock and smearing between his chest and the satin, smooth sheets. The rippling pulses of Harry’s arse squeezing through his orgasm was too much for Draco to withstand and seconds later he was following Harry over, emptying his cock into Harry’s arse and collapsing on top of his back, letting his cock gradually soften and slide out of Harry.

“Definitely my favourite wood,” Harry muttered.

Draco snorted and gave Harry’s shoulder another nip before rolling off of him and getting out of bed. “That hot arse of yours can fell my wood anytime,” he shouted back at the bed as he padded into the en-suite bathroom, Harry’s laughter following him.

 

***

 

They whiled away the morning with a leisurely breakfast of French toast that Harry cooked for them and then they bundled up and headed outside for a few hours of snowshoeing through the woods that bordered their lodgings. They retreated back to the cosy warmth of their home away from home in the late afternoon and Harry cooked them a hearty beef stew for dinner. After dinner they cuddled up together in the sitting room and watched one of the Muggle DVDs that had been left for the guests; a film with a series of vignettes featuring different characters around London celebrating different kinds of love, which Draco adamantly denied made him cry when that woman who looked vaguely like their batty old Divination professor realized that her husband, who looked shockingly like their old Potions professor, was possibly cheating on her. Harry had the good sense to avert his eyes as Draco subtly wiped the tears from his cheeks, though Draco didn’t miss the indulgent smile on Harry’s face as he busied himself with something on the end table beside him.

“How about we head up to the rooftop terrace and put that hot tub to good use?” Harry proposed.

“Are you sure you want to do that? Surely you know that cold temperatures are no friend to a man,” Draco smirked, gesturing vaguely to Harry’s lap.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m confident in my manhood, but if you’re scared, Malfoy…” Harry smirked right back at him.

Draco tilted his chin up in indignation and stood up from the couch, unbuttoning his shirt as he left the room. He heard Harry following behind him and a small chuckle as he slid his shirt off his shoulders and dropped it on the floor behind him without stopping.

“I thought you hated when clothes were left on the floor,” Harry accused jokingly from behind him.

“I spend my days picking up after your slovenly self. Now it’s your turn,” he called back without stopping, sliding the strap of his belt out of the buckle and starting on the fastenings of his trousers.

By the time he made it up to the master bedroom, he had managed to strip himself down to only his pants and his socks. He popped into the en-suite bathroom and grabbed both of the fluffy bathrobes that had been provided for their stay. He was just emerging back into the bedroom when Harry entered, shirtless, with his trousers open and a small pile of clothes in his arms.

“Took you long enough,” Draco needled. He walked around the bed and draped one of the robes over Harry’s arms, before proceeding to the base of the stairs leading up to the rooftop terrace. He stopped there and draped the robe over the handrail, looking back briefly over his shoulder to make sure that he had Harry’s full attention before sliding his thumbs under the elastic band of his pants and sliding them down his legs, bending over and giving Harry a view to appreciate that definitely had nothing to do with the Scottish Highlands.

Draco could hear a flurry of movement behind him that suggested Harry had been properly enticed and was catching up to him, stripping off his clothes as quickly as possible. Draco slipped off his socks, the last two pieces of clothing he was wearing, before slipping the robe on and cinching it shut. Grinning to himself, he pulled his arm back and took aim, satisfied when the socks hit their mark: Harry’s head. Harry looked up at him and grinned. “Were you raised in a barn, Malfoy?”

Draco grinned at the reference. He had to admit that socks on the floor were much less annoying when you were the one putting them there. “Pick those up, would you, dear?” he drawled as he started up the circular staircase, leaving a grumbling Harry below him.

He emerged onto the rooftop and immediately began reconsidering this plan at the frosty bite of the air. The hot tub was bubbling away, however, and he could see tempting tendrils of steam rising from the roiling surface. Cinching the deal was the bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket with two crystal glasses resting on a small table beside the tub. He could suffer through a few moments of discomfort for all of those bubbles.

Draco hustled across the small, round terrace and slipped the robe off, letting it fall to the cool tiles beside the hot tub before scurrying up the small ladder and lowering himself into the water. He sighed in relief as the sharp pinpricks of heat replaced the cool bite of the February air. A moment later Harry emerged onto the roof and scurried across to join him. Draco watched with amusement as Harry dropped his robe and practically leaped into the tub, splashing water over the edge.

Draco smirked as Harry dipped down so that he was submerged up to the neck in the hot water and his glasses fogged up from the steam. “You know it’s just going to be all the colder when you have to emerge again, right? And, besides, you are hardly going to be able to enjoy the breathtaking view with your glasses all fogged up.”

“Bugger,” Harry muttered, then slowly emerged from the hot tub, his jaw chattering a bit as he rubbed his hands across his chest and upper arms. After a few minutes, Harry seemed to become acclimatized to the dichotomous temperatures and he sighed, relaxing against the edge of the tub.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Harry breathed, looking out between the turrets at the twinkling expanse of stars and the dark, calm Loch in the distance.

“Mmmm, perfect,” Draco murmured, cuddling up close to Harry’s side and resting his head on his shoulder.

“Which one is yours again?” Harry asked.

Draco lifted his head and examined the sky for a few moments before finding his namesake constellation. He pushed Harry, gesturing that he should sit forward, then slipped in behind him and pulled him back against him so that he was perched between Draco’s spread legs. He slipped his hand down Harry’s arms and sealed their arms and hands together, extending Harry’s pointing finger so that it followed his. Leaning his chin on Harry’s shoulder, nuzzling against his neck, he extended their joined arms together and traced the looping curves of the Draco constellation in the sky, pointing it out to Harry. “It’s right...there.”

“Oh right, there it is. I see it now,” Harry confirmed, settling himself back against Draco, letting his head fall back against Draco’s shoulder. They sat in silence, nestled together in the tub for several minutes, enjoying the peace that comes with quiet contentment with another person.

“Harry! Look!” Draco pulled his arm out of the water as quickly as possible and pointed off to the right. “Did you see that? It was a shooting star!”

“I saw it. You have to make a wish,” Harry encouraged.

Draco closed his eyes and made his wish. The only thing he was sure he wanted: a future life with Harry. His eyes shot open at Harry’s next words, “Draco, I was wondering...would you want to…”

Draco couldn’t believe that his wish was coming true so rapidly. A small part of him regretted using such an, apparently, powerful wish on something that he was fairly certain was a certainty anyway, but he quashed that petty side of himself down. A long life with Harry really was the only thing that he wanted right now.

“Yes, Harry…” His reply was both an encouragement for Harry to continue and a guarantee of his answer to the question.

Harry held Draco’s hand in his own, palm up, tracing the puckered ridges of skin on his fingertips from soaking in the water. Harry sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I was just wondering if you wanted to pop over to Hogwarts tomorrow…?”

“Of course I w-wait, what?” Draco drew himself up, halfway through accepting the proposal for matrimony that never actually happened. “You...want to go to Hogwarts? Tomorrow?”

Harry shrugged again. “It’s just...I know that this is supposed to be a romantic mini-break for us, but I happened to mention to Hagrid in a letter that we would be coming and he practically demanded that we stop in for a visit while we’re up here. Since we’re so close.”

Draco fought to suppress the rapidly rising wave of disappointment that, yet again, evidently Harry was not proposing. “And...that’s all you were going to ask?”

Harry’s brows drew together and he studied Draco’s face for a moment before he gave him a small smile. “Well...yeah. Why? Were you expecting something else?”

Draco pushed Harry forward and slid out from behind him, making his way over to the side of the tub with the bottle of champagne. He kept his back to Harry as he schooled his features, trying to prevent any of the disappointment that he was feeling from painting itself across his face. “No, not at all. Sure, we can go up to the school tomorrow.”

He picked up the two flutes of champagne and turned back to Harry, pasting a fake grin on his face and handing Harry his glass.

“Cheers,” they toasted before taking a sip of the champagne. Well, Harry took a sip; Draco took a large gulp, emptying half of the flute in one mouthful. He was pretty sure Harry had picked a particularly prized vintage, but right now, Draco couldn’t have cared less.

 

***

 

“Here’s where you got to. I was starting to worry that you had abandoned me in the Highlands,” Harry joked as he pulled open the door to the sauna and slipped inside, joining Draco in the steamy room that smelled richly of cedar.

“I woke up early and thought I would relax a bit. Who knows what foul or dangerous beasts we are going to have to try and avoid being slaughtered by this afternoon?” Draco sniped.

“Come on, D. Hagrid isn’t that b—”

“Harry, last time we visited Hagrid I had to knee you in the balls to break the hypnotic trance that that wampus cat—that he had somehow managed to procure as a “security alarm” for his hut—put on you. You were approximately five seconds away from offering up your entrails as an afternoon snack for the beast!”

Harry grimaced at the memory. “Okay, you may have a point.”

Draco clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes, letting his head settle back against the wall of the sauna and breathing in the thick, wooden smell.

Draco could feel Harry’s hand encircle his ankle, resting near the lower bench where Harry was sitting. He didn’t betray any reaction, even as he felt Harry’s strong hand slide up, massaging the sleek bulge of his calf muscle. When he felt the tender press of lips on the outside of his knee, Draco mumbled a, “What are you doing?” without opening his eyes. He sensed Harry slide away, standing up briefly before he settled himself between Draco’s legs, spreading them wider and causing the tuck of his towel to come undone. When he felt those two strong hands massage the muscles of his thigh, pushing the precariously balanced towel further up his lap, Draco dragged his sweat-soaked head forward and looked down at Harry.

“I was just thinking that I could help you relax. Orgasms are great for that, after all,” Harry smirked suggestively up at him, fingertips digging and retracting from his thigh muscles, but not going any further until Draco gave him the green light.

Draco reached up and stroked Harry’s hair back from his forehead, running his fingernails down behind his ear and around and up along his jaw. “I’m all sweaty,” he protested half-heartedly.

“Fortunately for you, I seem to have a fondness for your particular fragrance. You smell good enough to eat right now.” Harry stared up at him, not looking away as he lifted the towel end draped across Draco’s lap, resting it on the bench beside him.

Draco’s cock had begun to fill over the last few minutes, but it had a ways to go before he was at full attention. Draco slid forward and leaned back, opening his legs wider to give Harry open access to his body. Harry started by planting a trail of kisses up and down his cock, his lips nibbling lightly at the shaft, teasing him to fullness.

“It’s not advisable to spend all day in a sauna you know,” Draco prodded. His sarcasm was rewarded by Harry taking the head of his cock in his mouth and sucking on it, drawing a hiss from Draco as his arousal spiked.

He could feel the curve of the smile on Harry’s mouth as Draco’s hips lifted up from the bench, the urge to thrust a subconscious need that felt very much beyond his control. Harry prodded Draco’s slit with his tongue, the firm muscle poking at the tiny hole, as if demanding entrance that was simply not possible. Harry alternated between hard sucks on his glans and bobbing dips of his head, taking Draco’s cock to the back of his throat while he fondled Draco’s testicles with one hand and the other climbed up Draco’s chest to pinch and twist one of his nipples.

“Fuck, Harry. I’m so close,” Draco uttered as he ran his hands through Harry’s sweaty mop of hair and around to the back of his head. Draco felt when Harry relaxed, handing over the control of his movements to Draco. Draco held his head firmly between his hands and guided his head up and down, Harry’s mouth open and accepting, spit dribbling out of his mouth and leaving Draco’s cock filthy wet and pooling in the trimmed hair on his pubis. Draco sped up his thrusts as he watched the sight of his cock, throbbing and angry red in colour now, slide in and out of Harry’s mouth. He could feel his orgasm lurking, ready to overpower him, and then Harry closed his finger and thumb around the base of his testicles and yanked them down ever-so-slightly, and that was all Draco needed. His orgasm crashed over him, come flooding Harry’s mouth and then dribbling back out again, dripping down Draco’s cock and pooling around the base, trickling down onto his balls.

Draco’s arms fell to the side as all of his muscles relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss. Harry set about cleaning him up. Gently sucking the dribbled saliva and come off of his softening cock and pubis, running the flat of his tongue over the furled skin of his testicles. His ministrations were soft, managing to stay just on this side of too much on his over-sensitised cock. Draco reclined and enjoyed the attention his lover paid to him; he’d need a shower after this, but being laved clean by Harry’s tongue like this was so intimate and made Draco feel worshipped and loved.

Harry gradually pulled away, planting a tender kiss on each of the patches of paper-thin skin where his leg met his torso, and then looked up to Draco. Leaning forward, Draco claimed Harry’s mouth in a mellow kiss that was infused with all of the love he had for the man, tasting himself on Harry’s tongue. “Thank you,” he whispered against Harry’s lips.

Harry gave him a tender smile and leaned in, giving him another quick kiss, before leaning back. “We should get going. Hagrid is expecting us for lunch.”

Harry stood up and walked out of the sauna, letting a blast of refreshing, cool air in. Draco took a moment longer to himself, bracing for the afternoon ahead of him. He knew that Hagrid was an important father figure for Harry, and he went out of his way to try to act civilly to him, but he couldn’t say that he particularly enjoyed their visits with him.

Just then, Harry popped his head back into the sauna. “I just got an owl from Hagrid. He said we should wear something flame-resistant.”

“Goodie.”

 

***

 

“Ow! Careful! That bloody hurts!” Harry shouted as Draco shifted Harry against him, taking more of Harry’s weight as they hobbled through the snow, making their way from the copse of trees back to the tower.

“Maybe you will remember that the next time that bloody menace of a man asks if you want to pet any of his nightmarish monsters!” Draco huffed back, struggling under Harry’s weight.

“Hagrid didn—”

“Don’t you  _dare_ defend that man,” Draco cut Harry off. “He _is_   a bloody menace. I’m fairly certain that chicken of his must violate at least five laws on the regulation of magical creatures. Where did he even get that thing, anyway?”

“He bred it himself,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

“Unbelievable. Why McGonagall hasn’t sacked him yet is a mystery deserving study by the Unspeakables,” Draco muttered as he unlocked the door and heaved Harry inside.

“Hogwarts is his home! Where would he go?” Harry said, hissing between his teeth as they made their way up the first flight of stairs.

“It is also the temporary home of hundreds of children, who deserve to feel safe and not live in fear of second-degree burns from an illegal, fire-breathing chicken!” Draco shouted back, frustrated at Harry’s stubborn loyalty despite glaring evidence to the contrary.

“My leg will be fine by tomorrow. Madam Pomfrey just said that I’ll need to take it easy this evening and make sure to re-apply the healing salve that she gave me.”

Draco sighed and navigated Harry to the right, towards the second bedroom as they reached the top of the stairs.

“Where are we going? Our bedroom is up there.” Harry pointed upwards, as if Draco had suddenly forgotten the location of the master bedroom.

Draco ignored him and steered him through the door of the second bedroom, setting him down on the bed. “I think it would be for the best if you stay here tonight.”

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, Draco. I honestly didn’t know that it was a fire-breathing chicken. Or that it hates to be picked up.”

Draco didn’t say anything as he got Harry settled back against the pillows and vanished his trousers before slowly unwrapping the bandages that stretched from his ankle up to his thigh on his right leg. 

“Pass me the salve that Poppy gave you, please.” Draco held out his hand for the salve, not making eye contact with Harry as he waited for him to comply. When he felt the heavy weight of the glass jar, which was emitting an aura of chill, he unscrewed the lid and scooped a generous glob onto his fingers and then set to the task of slathering a thick layer of the cream onto Harry’s raw, exposed skin.

Harry hissed in pain and Draco whispered out a barely audible apology. “Sorry. I’m doing this as gently as I can.”

“I know. I trust you, D.”

Finally, after what felt like an age, Harry’s entire wound was covered and he let out a sigh of relief. “Feels better already.”

Draco replaced the lid on the jar and set it down on the nightstand beside Harry. “Good. Just call me if you need me for anything.” Draco stood up and headed for the door.

“Draco, wait…”

He stopped at the door and turned back towards Harry on the bed. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for this weekend,” he sighed. Harry looked like he was about to say something, but Draco wasn’t in the mood for it. He had spent the last six hours in the Hospital Wing waiting for Harry to come to and fearing the worst. He just wanted this day to be over so that they could go home. “Good night, Harry.”

He slipped out of the door and rushed up the stairs to the master bedroom. Deciding he simply didn’t have the fortitude for going about his normal bedtime schedule, he forestalled it all and crawled into the bed, pulling the satin-soft covers up and over his head. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner this day would end.

He was almost glad that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, because this day was hardly one that he would want to remember.

 

***

 

Draco woke up cold and confused. He had become so accustomed to waking up entwined in Harry’s reassuring warmth, that it took him a while to figure out where he was. And then the previous day came crashing back to him and he groaned, threw the covers over his head, and pretended the world didn’t exist, for just a moment more.

He knew he couldn't hide up here forever though, and eventually, he grudgingly threw back the cover and slid out of bed. He stuck his head out of the door for a moment and, reassured by the deep sawing sounds of Harry’s snoring, he stripped out of yesterday’s outfit and padded over to the en-suite.

After an invigorating, hot shower, Draco got dressed and then expanded their suitcases and began packing their things up. Leaving one outfit out for Harry, he levitated the cases down the stairs and set them on the landing before letting himself into the room Harry had slept in. Draco rolled his eyes when he heard the shower running—that was hardly ideal for a fresh wound—and sat down on the bed, waiting for Harry to emerge.

He didn’t have to wait long, and a few minutes later, Harry emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from the ends of his thick mop of hair as he combed it back.

“Oh,” Harry stopped, startled when he noticed Draco eyeing him from his position leaning back against the headboard of the bed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“How could you over that awful caterwauling you call singing?” Draco asked, deadpan.

Harry blushed slightly, which Draco found incredibly adorable. Even after all this time together, Harry apparently still felt embarrassed about his offkey shower singing. Draco took pity on him and, in a softer tone, he asked, “How’s your leg?”

Harry looked relieved at the change of subject. “It’s loads better, though I could probably do with another application of salve.”

Draco slid forward and swung his legs over the side of the bed, gesturing for Harry to come over to him. Harry trod across the room and stood between Draco’s legs before sliding the towel off and letting it fall to the floor. Draco took a moment to appreciate the compact, muscular profile of Harry’s body and then reached for the jar and began applying the salve to Harry’s thigh. He smirked when Harry’s prick twitched with interest—even grievously injured, it was nice to know that Harry still wanted him—but he ignored it and kept the application strictly medicinal. He applied a generous layer of the salve from his thigh down to his knee, then motioned for Harry to give him some room so that he could slide off the bed and down to his knees and do the same for his lower leg.

“Better?” he asked when he had finished applying the ointment to the entire burn area which, he must admit, really did look much better. He would probably be fully healed by tomorrow.

“Couldn’t be better.” Harry grinned down at him. “Well, I _could_   be better…” He trailed off as he threw a pointed glance at his partial erection.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I swear that’s all you want me for,” he grumbled, but he couldn’t stop himself from placing a quick teasing kiss to Harry’s shaft before standing up.

He was surprised when Harry took his head in his hands, pulling him close and placing a whisper-soft kiss on his lips. “I definitely want you for much more than that. I want you for everything, D.”

Draco’s breath caught at the impassioned promise and he leaned closer, bringing their mouths together once more. “Harry...” he whispered.

“We should get going. We’re supposed to be checked out of here in ten minutes.” Harry’s words brought Draco crashing back to reality. Maybe Pansy had been wrong. Maybe Harry and Hermione had not been shopping for engagement rings. Surely if he had been planning to propose he would’ve done it sometime this weekend.

“Get dressed. I have us all packed,” Draco sighed.

Harry pulled him in for a quick smacking of lips. “You’re amazing! Thank you!”

Twenty minutes later, they Apparated into their sitting room with a sharp crack and hauled their suitcases upstairs to the bedroom. Draco walked into the room ahead of Harry and the first thing he saw was that bloody sock on the floor.

Swinging his suitcase up onto their bed as he walked by, he sighed as he bent over and picked up the offending item. He was confused when the sock turned out to have something bulky and hard inside of it.

“Harry, what’s—”

He cut off abruptly as he turned around, about to ask Harry what on Earth he had left in his sock, and noticed that Harry was behind him...and kneeling down on one knee.

“I had hoped that you would find that  _before_   we left. This weekend was meant to be a celebration...of our engagement,” Harry was grinning up at him and Draco found that he was completely at a loss for words. Until he wasn't.

"Why didn't you just bring the ring with you, you berk?!" Draco very nearly screeched.

Harry shrugged and drew him a mischievous smirk which suggested that Draco had rubbed off on him. "I had already planned it this way. And you're always saying I need to plan more."

Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, "Now he decides to start listening to me."

Draco slid the black, velvet ring box out of the sock and gasped when he swung the lid open, revealing a brushed platinum ring with two black stripes running around it. He removed it from the case and inspected it, noticing an inscription on the inside, a simple “H.P. + D.M.”

Draco’s attention was pulled away from the ring that he had convinced himself was never coming at the sound of Harry in pain. “Stand up, you idiot! You’ve just burned your leg!”

Harry took three slow, deep breaths through his nose before opening his eyes and looking up at Draco. “Not until I’ve done this properly. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?”

Draco took a few moments to commit this moment to his memory until a look of concern started to bud on Harry’s face and he realised he hadn’t answered him yet. “Yes, of course!”

Harry laughed in relief and pushed himself up to his feet with Draco’s help. “You had me worried there for a minute,” Harry beamed as he took the ring from Draco’s hand and slid it onto his left-hand ring finger. He lifted the hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss on the ring, resting on Draco’s finger.

“You’re never going to stop leaving your dirty socks on the floor, are you?” Draco asked, trying to sound aggrieved, but even he could hear the joy and fondness leaking through.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and pulled him up against him, dipping his head down to forge a trail of kisses along Draco’s jaw. “I’d like to say that I will, but I don’t ever want to break a promise to you.”

Draco sighed, “Well, as long as there’s a present hidden in them from time-to-time, I guess I can live with that.”

Harry stopped his nibbling on Draco’s earlobe to laugh. “You’ve got a deal.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Knocking His Socks Off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231123) by [BrandonStrayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonStrayne/pseuds/BrandonStrayne)




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